


High Strung, Young, and Dumb

by Shampain



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Crowley smokes pot, Domestic Fluff, F/M, M/M, based on fanart, college shenanigans, genderfluid beelzebub, so does everyone else i guess but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 06:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shampain/pseuds/Shampain
Summary: “Gabe!” Crowley exclaimed, bustling in and clambering up onto the bed. “Gabe! Get up! I have something for you to try on!”“Crowley!” Gabriel sat up, but Bee pulled him back down before his movements dislodged the covers too much and she ended up flashing not only her roommate, but also Aziraphale, who had joined them in a valiant effort to wrangle Crowley back outside. “Could you not-”“Crowley, stop, they’re trying to sleep,” Aziraphale said, kindly.“And we’re naked,” Bee snapped.-A silly University AU ficlet, featuring a somewhat maudlin Crowley and those other people he hangs out with.





	High Strung, Young, and Dumb

**Author's Note:**

> how is this the second fic where I got the title from '99' by Barns Courtney? ANYWAY.
> 
> Written as a gift for [punkeduppirate](https://punkeduppirate.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, based on their awesome and completely adorable Good Omens Uni AU fanart.  
Since I am most comfortable writing university experiences in Canada, because that is exactly the university experience I had (heyoh!) this is set in Canada. Gabriel is Canadian. Yes, we're all very shocked. Onwards.
> 
> **If You Don't Speak Canadian: A Handy Guide**  
Timmies: Tim Hortons, a coffee and lunch establishment that isn’t actually that great and yet, without it, the entire country would probably collapse  
double double: a coffee with two cream, two sugars.  
triple triple: see above, change the numbers, it’s simple math my friends  
timbits: donut holes or whatever Americans call them. Also they’re technically supposed to be capitalized as Timbits but you know what, fuck capitalism.  
loonie: this isn’t in the story but I just want y’all to know that in Canada dollar coins are called loonies. So. If you didn't know this, now you do.

It was one in the morning and Crowley opened the door to Bee’s bedroom. A shaft of hallway light illuminated the bed, along with the pale green comforter and two heads poking out from beneath it.

“Gabe!” Crowley exclaimed, bustling in and clambering up onto the bed. “Gabe! Get up! I have something for you to try on!”

“Crowley!” Gabriel sat up, but Bee pulled him back down before his movements dislodged the covers too much and she ended up flashing not only her roommate, but also Aziraphale, who had joined them in a valiant effort to wrangle Crowley back outside. “Could you not-”

“Crowley, stop, they’re trying to sleep,” Aziraphale said, kindly.

“And we’re naked,” Bee snapped. “Get out of here! What are you even doing here?” And she cast an accusing, baleful glare at Aziraphale, who had the good grace to look abashed. “I thought you were sleeping over at _your angel’s_ tonight!”

“I just had a really good idea and started working on it and angel doesn’t have a sewing machine and Gabriel, you _have_ to wear it,” Crowley said. He ignored Aziraphale, climbing up to squish himself between Gabriel and Bee, though he had the good grace to stay on top of the covers. He flopped down and wriggled in, getting comfortable. “I love both of you,” he sighed, happily, flinging his arms to the side, draping one over Bee, the other over Gabe.

Gabriel raked a hand through his hair, looking perplexed. “Well, Crowley,” he said, while Bee made an irritated noise. “We love you too, and you know I support your fashion artistry, but Bee and I were sleeping, so maybe this can wait until morning.”

“_Late_ morning,” Bee mumbled, trying to disappear under the blankets.

“Crowley, dear, let them sleep,” Aziraphale said, gently.

“But-”

“I’ll make you a grilled cheese.”

Crowley paused. “Okay, fine,” he said, and began to wiggle and slide off the bed like some kind of eel. Bee sighed in relief as soon as the door was shut, and scooted closer to Gabriel, snuggling up against his chest.

“He was _so_ high,” Gabriel said into her hair. She snorted.

“Very high,” she agreed.

~

Crowley woke on the couch with a start when the front door slammed.

“Sorry, sorry!” Gabriel called from the foyer.

Crowley levered himself upright, wincing. He was sore all over. He reached up and began to un-stick his hair from his forehead as Gabriel walked in, a paper bag in one hand, a tray of hot drinks in the other, still bundled up from facing the snow. “Oh, thank all that is holy,” he said, reaching out to take the double double Gabriel was handing him.

“Yes, you’re welcome,” Gabriel said, dryly.

“Do you have food, too?”

“You think I’d go out in -25 on a Saturday morning and not come back with food?” Gabriel retorted, on his way to the kitchen.

“No, come back, I want hash browns,” Crowley wailed, climbing off the couch.

There were four people living in the house: Crowley and Bee, of course, but also Hastur and Ligur, though they tended to run on more nocturnal schedules and, because of that, were still solidly unconscious upstairs. Gabriel and Aziraphale both lived in on campus housing, in a small student apartment that barely fit their two bedrooms, kitchen area and living room.

Usually on Friday nights one couple crashed at the house and the other at the apartment; but Crowley had been restless the evening before and, apparently, no amount of pot and hard cider had slowed him down, if the ache in his body was anything to go by. What _had_ he gotten up to?

“You kept trying to run up snow piles but just face planted into them, remember?” Aziraphale yawned. Gabriel placed Aziraphale’s drink down on the kitchen table (steeped tea, mostly cream) and handed Bee hers (a triple triple, since she seemed to run on sugar). She turned her face up expectantly and he kissed her on the cheek.

Despite the fact they were in Canada, Gabriel was the only Canadian present in a gaggle of Brits, and thus was entrusted with every single Timmies run. It was a strange language spoken between the Canadians, or at least that’s what Bee claimed whenever she clambered all over Gabriel (usually when he was sitting on the couch trying to do homework) and begged him to go get her ‘those circle things I like’. Gabriel, like Aziraphale, was a bit fussy, but also a stickler, a neat freak, and generally the kind of guy who married a Victoria’s Secret model once he turned twenty-three and then divorced her at thirty-three in order to marry a different, younger, Victoria’s Secret model.

And yet, Bee had him wrapped around her little finger (or their little finger, depending on how Bee was feeling that day).

“You fucking idiot,” Bee laughed at Crowley, before cramming a chocolate timbit into her mouth. “Serves you right after waking us up.”

“I’m so sore,” Crowley whined, dragging his chair at the table closer to Aziraphale’s, so he could lay his head on his angel’s shoulder. He felt Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair and sighed in contentment.

“Do you want a tylenol?” he asked gently.

“I think I’ll be okay.”

Behind them, Bee and Gabe were quietly bickering (“Give me that plate.” “Why plate it, it’s just other stuff we need to wash after-” “It’s the principle of the thing-” “It’s wasted effort-” “Bee.” “_Gabe_.”). Crowley smoothed his hand along Aziraphale’s leg and nuzzled his neck. “Did you sleep in my bed last night?” he asked, recognizing that Aziraphale was wearing his university sweatpants.

“Yeah. I couldn’t get you to come up with me.”

“Sorry,” Crowley said, sincerely. “I’ll behave better tonight.”

Someone flicked the back of his head and he jumped. It was Bee, smirking as she set down everyone’s breakfast of egg and bacon bagels and extra hash browns, with the box of assorted timbits plunked down squarely in the centre of the table. Gabriel had won the plate debate, Crowley saw. “You never behave,” she said.

“Well, that’s why I love him,” Aziraphale said promptly, and Crowley fought down his blush.

“What were you going on about last night, anyway?” Bee asked, depositing a large amount of ketchup on her plate. “And I can’t believe you got high without me,” she added, under her breath.

Crowley brightened. “Oh,” he said, sitting up straight, not noticing Aziraphale eating one of his hash browns, even though he was using a knife and fork and wasn’t being at all subtle about it. “I made a jacket for Gabriel. It’s slick as fuck.”

“I thought you were focusing on a women’s range this term,” Gabriel said.

“Oh, I am! This isn’t for school. I just had an idea, I’ll show you after breakfast.” The only reason they started hanging out with Gabriel – and, in fact, the only reason Gabriel and Bee met – was because he and Aziraphale were randomly-assigned roommates and the first time Crowley had clapped eyes on him his brain had spun out with ideas. As a fashion and design major, having Gabriel as a clothes horse was an absolute dream.

“I actually need to make it to a project meeting, but I’ll come around after,” Gabriel said, without much enthusiasm – mostly for the fact group projects were hellish, and as a business student Gabriel had to do one in almost every single class.

“Yeah, we’re going out tonight, you should come,” Bee said, enthusiastically. Aziraphale had a look on his face that suggested he would rather take a final exam than go out to a club, until Bee added, “Poetry reading at the Watch Factory.”

“Yes, and I’d rather kill myself,” Gabriel said, cheerfully. Bee slapped his shoulder. “So you should come to wrestle all the sharp objects out of my hands.”

“Oh, Gabriel,” Aziraphale said. “I’d do anything for you after you bought us breakfast.”

“You’re so easy,” Crowley sighed.

“And it still took you five months to ask me out.”

“I-!! Shut up!”

**Author's Note:**

> the scene where Crowley busts in on his naked friends and climbs aboard is art imitating life, as in my life.  
also bigass thank you to [notanescalator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/notanescalator/gifts) for giving this a quick beta because I was too lazy to edit it myself <3


End file.
